


can i buy you a drink?

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, One Shot, because he is but i love him, i made t-jeff an asshole, i mean not actual tjeff obviously, yall kno what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: is it cheesy? yes. would i die for the "person a saves person b from creepy dude at bar" trope? also yes. (also i Know that title is overused but i'm god-awful with titles so bear with me)





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first hamburr fic :0 if you have any tips or comments, don't hesitate to leave them in the comments! ♥ also, bonus points if you can find the john mulaney reference.

Burr isn't usually the type of guy to go out to bars on Friday nights, he's more of a "bottle of Jack Daniel's and a PBS nature documentary" kind of guy. He doesn't trust himself enough to not do something stupid and rash while drinking in public, and at least when he's in the privacy of his own apartment, that's limited to crying at baby animals. However, he's walking home from work, it's January in New York City, and he's fairly certain that if he keeps going, his toes are going to fall off. So, he decides to quickly swing into the bar that's about seven blocks from his apartment, get a quick drink or two, and then head back out and sprint his freezing ass home.

As he walks in to the pub, loosening his scarf, his inhibitions about his decision slowly fade. It's not exactly rowdy, mostly groups of people his age celebrating the end of the work week. Burr sits down at the bar, orders his whiskey, and takes to looking around the pub, observing the various groups of people enjoying themselves, or those flying solo like himself, playing on their phones and nursing a drink.

His eyes are quickly drawn to the loudest table in the place, consisting of four men not much younger than him, one of which is clearly drinking as quickly as possible on a dare, while two film it and one looks on with unadulterated joy. As the one drinking, a short man with dark hair pulled into a ponytail, finishes, the rest cheer. Burr smirks and is about to turn back to his waiting whiskey, when he sees a man get up from his table and start walking towards Burr with a look he _does not_ appreciate. Not that he isn't attractive, but Burr just isn't in the mood for flirting and whatever that may lead to, so he quickly turns away and pulls out his phone, praying that the other man gets the message and _doesn't talk to him_.

Apparently the message isn't received, because he sits down on the stool next to him, orders a Sam Adams, and asks Burr's name. Burr tries not to focus on the fact that the dude is uncomfortably close, mutters, "It's Aaron," and takes a long sip of whiskey. 

"Aaron, huh? I'm Thomas, Thomas Jefferson. We work in the same building, you might've heard of me." He flashes a fake looking smile. Not asked, "you might've heard of me?" but said as a statement, as if it's implied that everyone should have heard of him. Burr immediately doesn't like him, and prays to any god that Jefferson leaves soon. 

"Yeah, I'm working on this big case with Washington right now. Heard you're working the Levy case right now, right? If you need any pointers, I'd be glad to help." Jefferson punctuated this with a wink before taking a swig of his beer, and Burr has already formulated 1000 excuses to get the _hell_ away from this dude, before he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey babe, you ready to go? Sorry I took so long." Aaron turns around to see one of the men from the table he was watching earlier, the one who'd been drinking like it was the Civil War and a doctor was coming to saw his legs off the next day. 

"Oh, hey Jefferson! Funny seeing you here, hope you weren't bothering my boyfriend, because it would be a shame if I had to punch a few of those perfect teeth out of your head, huh?" The man says this all with a smile on his face, but it's clear he hates Jefferson more than Burr thought any human could hate another.

"Not at all, Hamilton, just having a conversation about work, but if you really want him all to yourself that badly, he's yours."

Jefferson rolls his eyes and stalks off back to his table, and Burr breathes a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. 

"Are you okay, man?" Hamilton asks. "Jefferson has a way of creeping out everyone in his general vicinity, and you looked pretty damn creeped out. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything, I just wanted to help seeing as I literally hate the guy and-" 

"It's no problem," Burr interrupts. "You did me a huge favor just now. Let me buy you a drink, huh?"

Hamilton looks flustered for a minute, before nodding and sitting down next to Burr. Burr almost laughs, if anyone should be flustered it's him, with an attractive guy pretending to be his boyfriend, the warmth of his hand still present on Burr's shoulder. 

As soon as Hamilton gets his drink he starts talking again, asking Burr about work and if he lives around here and God, isn't Jefferson an _asshole_. Burr just laughs and can't stop looking at Hamilton's eyes, because he's more than a little tipsy now, and he kind of (really) wants to run his hands through Hamilton's hair, before he realizes that Hamilton's staring at him.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Hamilton laughs.

"I asked what your name was. Here I am, rambling for ten minutes and I haven't even asked."

"Aaron Burr. And you?" He hold out his hand. Hamilton takes it firmly and shakes. 

"Alexander Hamilton. Pleased to meet you." 

Hamilton's friends start calling for him from across the pub and he sighs. 

"I should probably get back to them, I'm probably the drunkest and I still need to take care of them. Maybe I'll see you around at work yeah?"

"Yeah, maybe," Burr says, smiling. He really hopes he does.

 


End file.
